Sunday, December 16, 2012

Loneliness

Two days after my last post, the one about Change....I left D.

It's been a month of more changes than I can count, more stress than I thought possible, and more grief than I expected.

I don't want to think about all that right now.  The poor choices of the last 10 years, the financial and personal loss, the ongoing drama in disconnecting, the pain of hurting the man I love, the loss of self-respect, the relinquishing of power, the second-guessing....it's all too much.

So, here I sit, in my cozy little casita, listening to the birds who are cheeping in the bushes and complaining about the cold and the dusting of snow on the ground (yes, I'm anthropomorphizing.)  I have an excellent landlord, a retired librarian who let me use her oven last week to bake Julecaga and rolls.  There is art on the walls, there are books on the shelves, there is coffee in my cup.  I just finished skyping with H and S and eating breakfast, and this afternoon I go to T's for a cookie baking party:  she got the idea from me and ran with it, and I'm so happy to have a little holiday baking in my future.  I'll be bringing the potatoes I mashed last night, and I'll make lefse.   Ostensibly, life is good, I'm productive, and I'm doing things that bring me joy.

In fact, I have too muich to do:  practising for the upcoming concerts, knitting for Christmas gifts, reading, writing, making decorations, sending cards, getting a new driver's license, managing my budget.  And work.

This is how I lived 10 years ago:  lots of activity, lots of friends.  I didn't feel lonely very often.  I liked having my home to myself to recoup from the busy days.  Ostensibly an extrovert, I have introvert tendencies:  being with people can energize me, but it often saps me intead, and I need the space and solitude.  When I first left D, my grief was buried by an immense relief: I no longer have to deal with him, I can come home to a peaceful home, I can do things the way I want to without recrimination, I don't have to compromise a damn thing.

So I thought.

But, yesterday I was sad, sad, sad.  I wanted to call D.  I wanted to make sure he was okay.  I wanted to plan an outing with him.  I wanted to hold him.  I was lonely.

I can handle the days, of course.  There is work, there is business to take care of.  The nights, though...they are tough.  My current branch assignment is very quiet:  very few customer interactions, only 3 people to manage, the building maintenance is done by the site where the library is located.  I don't come home exhausted by the demands of the day, and I need activity to offset the brooding.

I don't have TV to watch numbly while I knit, and I don't want to anyway.  I can practise, of course.  And read.  But they both require serenity and focus outside of myself.  I am too restless to settle down to anything.  I can do some baking and fudge making, but the kitchenette does limit that, and I'm not hungry.  I have to bring anything I make to other people.

Yes, I can call my friends.  But I don't want to overburden them, especially the new, local ones.   And I don't like talking on the phone.  Yes, I can Skype.  But in the end, I'm alone, when I'm used to having someone there.  Yes, it was someone I fought with, yes, it was someone who belittled me, who used me up.  But, it was a connection, however toxic.

Yesterday I called my Mom during my lunch break, and we talked about loneliness.  She shared what she went through after Dad died, and she encouraged me to pick up the pieces and look for another man.  Uh, no.  I don't want that, I never did.  I still don't know why I gave up 40 years of single bliss for 10 years of....what was it?  Companionship, caring, being needed?  I have years to figure that out.

But in the here and now, I have to figure out who I want to be, how I want to put the meaning back into my life.  It seems I am not put here to take care of another person.  I gather I am here to learn some sort of lesson, to grow in some way, to make a difference somehow.  And that is fine for the big picture.

It doesn't do much for the lonely evenings.